


each morning new, each day shot through

by ifimightchime



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Chocolatebox Treat, Gen, Missing Scene, Sort of because it probably doesn't fit into Hannibal's timeline, but that's because Hannibal's timeline is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-28 20:50:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17794517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifimightchime/pseuds/ifimightchime
Summary: “There are things I would like to teach you,” Hannibal says, unexpectedly, well into the drive.





	each morning new, each day shot through

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosecake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/gifts).



> Happy Chocolatebox!
> 
> This probably doesn't fit into the actual show timeline, because it's 19-hour drive between Minnesota and Baltimore, but since flying back doesn't really make sense either, we'll just handwave that under 'the Hannibal timeline is weird'.

“There are things I would like to teach you,” Hannibal says, unexpectedly, well into the drive.

Abigail starts; she hadn’t been falling asleep, exactly, but the road outside the window is hypnotizing, and it’s easier to focus on that than think about what’s happened in the last day. There will be plenty of time for thinking about things, she’s pretty sure, hiding out for whatever unknown amount of time she’s agreed to until Hannibal says it’s time to go. For now, she should enjoy the view of the world outside while she still has it.

Hannibal says she won’t always have to stay inside, that there’s somewhere he may be able to take her where she can be hidden and still have room; but they have to do these things carefully, just like they’ll have to be careful once they’re closer to home. Too soon, she’ll have to hide away, the darkness and the over-sized hoodie she still can’t entirely imagine Hannibal buying no longer enough to camouflage her. Even if nobody recognizes her, they can’t afford to have anyone be able to point to Hannibal driving around with some unknown young woman, especially not on the same day Abigail’s gone missing.

Hannibal had laid the plan out for her as she sat in the kitchen, watching the blood leaving her arm, and it’s not that Abigail doesn’t know it’s her best option. It’s just the idea of being trapped behind walls again, hiding, holding her breath every time she hears anyone else in the house, scares her more than she realized it would in the first rush of agreement. She’d been so relieved that she might be able to get away from this, that what she helped her father do wasn’t going to destroy the rest of her life, that she hadn’t considered what the waiting period was going to be like, and then there’s all the things she isn’t letting herself think about until she has time alone, the calm way he’s admitted to killing, _many more than your father_ , and it’s too late for second thoughts now, she knows that, but….

“Abigail?” Hannibal prompts quietly, drawing her out of the spiral of her thoughts.

Right. “What kind of things?” she asks, sitting up a little straighter in her seat, turning enough that she can look at Hannibal instead of out of her window. He’s focused on the road, but a small smile fixes itself in the corner of his mouth, reassuringly calm.

“Music, as I mentioned. And I would like to show you how to cook.”

“I already know how to cook,” Abigail interrupts, and Hannibal glances towards her just for a moment. His eyes are bright under the streetlights, almost playful, and it helps her relax just that much more.

“Not the way that I cook,” he says, and she shrugs, because she can’t argue with that.

“What else?”

He considers for a moment, fingers flexing around the wheel. “Italian, perhaps? It would be useful for you to have familiarity with other languages before we are to leave.”

“How long does it take to learn another language?”

“That depends on how much work you put into it.” 

It sounds like something a teacher would say, or maybe even a parent, and it takes Abigail by surprise, startles her into a laugh. Hannibal doesn’t seem to mind; the glance he gives her looks pleased, and she relaxes a little bit more, slumping back into the seat, still turned towards him.

“I would also like to continue your therapy sessions,” he continues, so casually that it takes Abigail a second to register what he’s saying.

“Why?” she asks, too sharply, and takes a deep breath, making herself sound calmer when she goes on. “I mean, you weren’t my doctor before or anything. Wouldn’t it be weird for you to take over when I’m… well.” She isn’t even sure how to finish that sentence. Hannibal is too hard to read; Abigail can’t imagine that he’d be doing all this for her without caring about her in some way, but what way? Maybe she’ll figure it out after staying with him for a while, but right now, she isn’t sure.

“It’s unconventional,” Hannibal says, “but as a psychiatrist, I believe you have been through too much to expect you to deal with it on your own. It may even be that I can help you more than your previous doctors. You have no need to keep secrets from me about what you have done. You can speak openly for the first time.”

The idea is as terrifying as it is comforting, and Abigail looks away, fiddling with the edges of her sleeves and fixing her eyes on the trees that blur by. “Maybe I don’t need to talk about it.”

“Talking about the past is often the best path to healing from it.” She doesn’t get a chance to answer before Hannibal presses forward. “I’m only asking that you consider it. Will you do that for me?”

It’s reasonable enough, she thinks, and anyway, right now she’s not sure she could say no to much; there’s too much Hannibal is doing for her, risking for her. “I can do that,” she says, looking down at her lap, and Hannibal follows her into silence for a little while.

“We’ll have to pull over soon,” he says eventually, calm and measured. “Are you ready to hide, Abigail?”

 _No_ , she thinks, clenching her jaw and tightening her hand around her sleeve as she takes a deep breath, because the only options she has are trusting Hannibal and turning herself in, and she isn’t ready to do that, either. “Yes.”

She can feel his eyes on her, and she looks up at him after a moment to catch his gaze, swallowing and forcing herself not to look away. “You will be fine, Abigail,” he says, soft and certain, and Abigail is comforted by it despite her uncertainty, even manages to pull up a smile in response.

“I will be,” she agrees, more confidently than she feels, and Hannibal nods once, pleased, and turns back to the road.


End file.
